The Greatness of Serena

My 9-year-old daughter has taken an interest in tennis, so I made sure she saw the women’s final of the Australian Open yesterday. It wasn’t much of a match, but I wanted to make sure she got a good, long look at one of the greatest players of all time.

The Australian has become a second home for Serena Williams, who so easily dispatched Dinara Safina, 6-0, 6-3, and she made a point of telling the crowd afterward. “I don’t get this everywhere,” she said of the fans’ unconditional adulation, and that’s an understatement. She finds full appreciation at the U.S. Open, but the Wimbledon patrons — perhaps numbed by too many big matches between Serena and her sister, Venus — have a measured response. And as Serena said yesterday, “For whatever reason, even though I own an apartment there, the French don’t clap for me.”

“I don’t get this everywhere,” says Serena of the Aussie fans’ unconditional adulation.

It will be interesting to see how the Parisians react if Serena wins the upcoming French Open, because that would mark her 11th major title. She doesn’t need to prove her worth on clay, having won the French in 2002, but that would truly leave no doubt as to the No. 1 player in the world — as if that’s even an issue.

Whatever the rankings say at any given time, Serena is positively unbeatable when she’s on her game. I’ve seen most of her Wimbledon and U. S. Open matches over the years, and I can’t recall a better performance than the one she staged against Safina.

It’s to Serena’s credit that she has always treasured the Australian (this marked her fourth title there), and that has hardly been the case among great players historically. If you’re wondering why this tournament seems slightly below the other majors in stature, it’s because it was so blatantly ignored by significant players over the years. Injuries, political issues and travel considerations played a part, but in many cases, they felt it just wasn’t worth the trip. Examples:

Andre Agassi: Didn’t play the Australian in his first nine years on tour (he finally showed up in 1995 and won it).

Bjorn Borg: Played it exactly once in his career, in 1974, getting knocked out in the third round.

Jimmy Connors: In 23 years on tour, he played it twice, winning in 1974 and reaching the ’75 final.

John McEnroe: Didn’t play it until his seventh year on tour (1983), then skipped 5 of the next 10 and never did win it.

Chris Evert: Played it only once in her first 10 years.

Billie Jean King: Between 1970 and ’81, didn’t play it at all.

That’s pretty bizarre, when you think about it. Serena has become a veritable institution in Melbourne, and it’s always fascinating to consider that she has mixed her famously whimsical lifestyle with a career record that stands among the best.

I thought Chris Fowler did a credible job in the ESPN booth with Mary Carillo, and they had a rather spirited debate about Serena’s commitment to tennis. Carillo is my favorite broadcaster in any sport, but I couldn’t agree with her fervent wishes that Serena dedicate her entire life to the game. “I think she needs that time away to be happy,” Fowler volunteered, respectfully, and he’s right. Serena might have retired by now if she’d had nothing else but tennis. Engaging, well-rounded and extremely bright, Serena moves about the planet as a full-blown celebrity, loving every minute. Then she goes out and destroys the women’s field, however it may be constructed, when she sets her mind to it. That’s about as cool as it gets.

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Bob Hayes‘ election to the Pro Football Hall of Fame was long overdue. The honor should have come well before his death (in 2002, of kidney failure), and it took the attention of a “seniors committee” to even get him nominated.

Too many people forget how Hayes changed the game in 1965, when he broke in with 1003 yards, 12 touchdowns and 21.8 yards per catch (13 games) as a Dallas Cowboys rookie. Even the great receivers were covered man-to-man in those days — until Hayes, for my money the greatest 100-yard sprinter of all time, came onto the scene. Coaches found themselves adopting more of a zone defense against Hayes, and the trend caught on leaguewide.

A lot of former Cowboys were delighted at Saturday’s Hall of Fame news, including Roger Staubach, who said, “Today, he would be the fastest guy in the NFL. Back then, it was absurd.” Hayes set a world record in the 100 meters at the 1964 Olympics and anchored the 400-meter relay with a surrealistic performance, making up a 4-meter deficit with a leg estimated as low as 8.6 seconds. Put this man up against any sprinter, any era, each man in his absolute prime, and Hayes takes the gold — not just on talent, but his pure desire. All of today’s sprinters cheat the public, the record books and themselves by pulling up before the finish unless it’s absolutely necessary to go all-out. Hayes had the utmost respect for his craft, and he made a historic transition into the violent world of pro football.

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Enough with the Charley Trippi retrospectives. The Cardinals have a fairly colorful history (all of it in St. Louis) heading into today’s Super Bowl, although to hear some tell it, they’ve represented nothing but a wasteland since Trippi led them to their last NFL title in 1947.

Ollie Matson, a vision in that white Cardinal helmet in the mid-1950s, was among the most exciting and influential running backs of his time. Mel Gray and Terry Metcalf were shining offensive lights of the 1970s. The 1976 St. Louis Cardinals sent seven players to the Pro Bowl: Gray, cornerback Roger Wehrli, center Tom Banks, tackle Dan Dierdorf, quarterback Jim Hart, guard Conrad Dobler and Jim Bakken, one of the greatest placekickers of the pre-soccer-style era.

More than anything, though, the Cardinals were as watchable as any NFL team from 1962 through ’66, when a largely forgotten quarterback named Charley Johnson ran the team. That offense was often unstoppable with the likes of running back John David Crow, tight end Jackie Smith and wide receivers Sonny Randle and Bobby Joe Conrad. The defense featured two of the greatest players in history, undersized cornerback Pat Fischer (about as big as your average pharmacist, Fischer had a tackling style so perfect, he could bring down any man on pure technique) and safety Larry Wilson. Wearing the now-retired #8, Wilson had 52 career interceptions and once picked off a pass with casts on both hands.

No need to go on. Most readers couldn’t care less about what happened 40 years ago. Just a reminder that some exceptional Cardinals should be remembered.

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3-DOTTING: Don Nelson made a smart move on the Warriors’ road trip, declaring that Monta Ellis will play at the 2-guard position until further notice, while he gets his legs back, but I don’t get the big puzzle. Ellis will never be a front-line point guard, nor should he ever be placed in that position. Maybe it screws up the rotation, but Ellis is the team’s best shooting guard — now and forever. Let the point guard be a problem (and a big one) until someone with legitimate credentials comes in to play that position . . . Caught plenty of grief for quoting Kenny Smith on the old “lies, damn lies” wisecrack in Saturday’s 3-Dot Lounge and not giving credit to its originator, Mark Twain. I knew of Mr. Twain’s remark. Just figured he wasn’t talkin’ basketball . . . Attention, connoisseurs of the wretched: The last time NBC had a postseason game, in this year’s first round, they introduced the telecast with an unbelievably nauseating pro-NBC song, sung by a cast of cheery, “Up With People”-style amateurs, along the lines of the godawful Hank Williams Jr. on “Monday Night Football.” The words “Al and John” (the announcers) were actually included in the lyrics. So brace yourself for more pitifully bad taste tonight (good thing Springsteen‘s performing later) . . . Wonderful piece of information from espn.com tennis writer Bonnie Ford, noting that Fernando Verdasco, the Spaniard who took Rafael Nadal to the limit in a 5-hour, 14-minute semifinal, is the son of prominent restaurant owners in Madrid: “One of their establishments, La Bola, is situated in the upscale Opera neighborhood and has been in the family since 1870. It’s known for its deep red exterior walls and the traditional Madrid dish called cocido, a chickpea-and-pork stew simmered on an old-fashioned charcoal stove.”